A Crust of Bread
by Apocalypticism
Summary: And so I came to be known as The Sin Eater.


And so I came to be known as The Sin Eater. It happened one day, suddenly, and poignantly.

Mr Gammelthorpe pulled me aside and pressed a folded note into my palm. He held my own smooth hand between his wizened ones, like he was giving me a blessing. I was confused as to what he meant; I unfolded the crisp bill and looked at it, then tried to hand it back to the old man.

"No, take it, Arnold. Please do me one last favour, that's all I ask of you. My son has sinned grievously," he said in a hushed tone.

"Of course," I said quietly, placing the note in my jacket's pocket.

He lead me to the living room where just ten minutes ago, it had been filled with people recounting beautiful lies. I had no idea what I would be taking on, or of what I would transform myself into. It still chilled me to the bone to see my former classmate in repose on the couch, with a look of peace on his face that I had never once seen him wear in life. Upon his breast was a porcelain plate and a crystal wine glass.

Mr Gammelthorpe directed me to a wooden chair next to the couch. He placed a rough slice of bread on the plate, then poured ale in the crystal glass. After a moment of heavy silence, he directed me to eat the bread and drink the ale. I did so. Who was I to keep a grieving and sick man from getting his last wish?

"And so my son's sins have become his sins. O Lord, please let my son enter your heavenly realm, so that I may dance with him on resurrection day," Mr Gammelthorpe said, folding his hands over his cane and laying his forehead upon them.

Even though it had been years since I had prayed, I felt compelled to speak, "His sins have become my sins. I will suffer for what he has done."

When Mr Gammelthorpe raised his head again, tears gleamed in his eyes. He shook his wizened head like a dog before raising his frame from the kneeling position he had been in. I rose to my feet too. Mr Gammelthorpe looked at me with a strange gleam in his eyes. He thanked me once again, then asked me to leave, so that he could be alone.

That very next morning, another old classmate of mine paid me a visit at my house. We chatted lightly over tea for a while until he suddenly let it slip that his father was sick in the hospital, with a terrible affliction he said. I put down my cup slowly, reaching over with my other hand to pat his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I know it's an odd request... but could you come to the hospital with me? It would mean very much to me," he said.

Of course, I agreed. When we made it to the hospital, it was revealed to me that the man had already died. Even though it was not a Jewish custom, it would still make him feel better if I acted as a sin eater for his father, he said, spinning his hat through his thick fingers.

So once more, I ate bread and ale passed over a dead man.

"His sins have become my sins, and so I will suffer for them," I said, once I had taken one last draught of ale.

We stood up and clasped hands. I walked away with another note left in my hand. Outside, I took a few deep breaths to steady my head. Maybe this was something I should talk to someone else about. Why did they believe that I could, by eating bread and drinking ale, cleanse another man of his accumulated sins?

With the thought weighing heavy on my mind, I set off at a brisk walk to talk to my closest friend. The rail road was not a pleasant place to be at high noon, but there was a brisk breeze that was determined to take my hat off. Within time, I spotted my friend hard at work, driving spikes into the ties. With one last mighty blow of the sledge hammer, he drove the spike through the unyielding wood and ground, so the top laid flush against the tie.

"Gerald," I spoke, getting his attention.

He looked up, then gave me an easy smile, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"What brings you ta this side?" he asked.

"I've got something that I'd like to ask you... you're the one person I know who knows the most about folklore. What is a sin eater?"

"Tha's an odd question, Arnold," Gerald said, shaking his head while leaning his forearms upon the handle of his sledgehammer.

"Do you know of them?"

"I do, I do, but nobody's axed 'bout them before. It's jus' odd that you'd axe me about them. It's somethin' that was an old belief... that someone's sins could be taken away by a sin eater. They'd ead a meal passed over the dead person, and then they'd have the sins of the dead person," Gerald explained.

"I see... well, thank you for explaining it to me. Would you like to come join us for dinner tonight?" I asked to be polite. My nerves were on edge. I had three lifetimes of sin inhabiting my body.

"Aw, naw, I can't. My gal's makin' steak tonight!" Gerald laughed.

I smiled a tense smile. "You enjoy that stake then, you know you're welcome over any time."

We bid each other good bye. The sun was beginning to set. Instead of leading me home, my feet took me along a well tread path, up to a house that was not mine. I knocked on the door, knowing it was late to be paying her a visit. The butler opened the door.

"May I visit with Mrs Gellert?" I took my hat from my head.

"She is not taking visitors at the moment, sir," the butler said.

"It's very important that I speak with her," I said.

"Very well. Come in, and I will see if she wishes to receive you," he stepped aside so I could enter.

Moments later, a figure I knew very well came down the stairs. Her eyes light up once she laid eyes on me.

"Of course I always have time to visit with Mr Shortman," she said dismissively. "Come to the parlour with me, Arnold."

I followed her to the parlour, where she shut and locked the door behind us. There was a fire burning in the hearth which attracted my attention for several minutes, until she spoke.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"It's a serious matter, Helga," I spoke slowly, my mind clouded with fog. "Do you know what a sin eater is?"

"A sin eater?"

"I have become one. Two lifetimes of sin are upon my own."

There was a looking glass over the mantle. Although it could have been a trick of the fire's flickering light, I seemed to look years older. There were gentle lines around my lips, crows feet crinkled at my eyes. I tugged back the sleeve of my jacket to gaze at my wrist. There was a faint red line travelling up my forearm. Their sins had become my sins.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Helga said, a harsh edge to her voice.

She crossed the room to stand beside me; her eyes were a fierce and blazing blue.

"I'm afraid I don't either. All I ask is that I be the last. No one else should shoulder such sin as I am now."

"You're not making sense, if this is what you are going to babble to me about, then go away. I don't want to deal with such blithe words," Helga said, gliding away from me.

I felt a sense of desperation as I had never felt before, so I quickly made my way to her, capturing her mouth in mine. I had never kissed her like this before, and she could sense something was amiss from my usually calm demeanour. Her hand pushed me away.

"I would shoulder such sins for you," she whispered.

"I could not ask you to do that for me, for you to pawn your own eternal soul," I still held her in my arms.

"But why should you pawn yours? All for someone who asked you to do so? To save his son from hell?" Helga scowled. I could not say anything for a moment, as I was surprised as to how she knew what happened. Helga's temper was still flaring, "Our Lord already sacrificed himself for us, why must you sacrifice yourself again? You will go to hell. I can't believe you did that to yourself."

"You don't understand, Helga," I said.

"You're right, I don't! You see yourself as a philanthropist, Arnold, but there is a point where you take on too much, and this has been it! Just go, go now," Helga turned her face from me.

I stood there a second, dumbfounded. Just a second ago, she was saying that she would shoulder such sins for me, but now she was telling me to leave? I would not question her. I left the room without another word and walked home, my head still heavy with thoughts.

And from that day on, any time someone had passed, I would be asked to eat their sin. Always, I would have a crust of bread and a draught of ale. Each time, I found myself with new scars, new aches, new sins. I knew one day soon, I would die because of this. I gave up my eternal soul, all for these people. Some I knew and some I did not. But always, her words rung in my head, "I would shoulder such sins for you."

"...his sins have become my sins, and so I will suffer for them," the blonde woman chased down the last bite of bread with a draught of ale.

–

I have no idea what this is.

No idea whatsoever.


End file.
